


Plaques

by kyosplosion



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Crown Snowfield | Crown Tundra (Pokemon), Found Family, Freezington (Pokemon), Gen, Minor Spoilers, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Canon, Tags May Change, Tiny village life, VERY Pre-Canon, mmmmaybe??, probably not historically accurate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:33:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27593495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyosplosion/pseuds/kyosplosion
Summary: The plaques around the current-day Crown Tundra's barren farmplots tell a tale of the past.A tale of how a Pokemon came to be known as the King of Bountiful Harvests.
Relationships: Budrex | Calyrex & Original Characters
Kudos: 6





	1. May 7

\--

_May 7_

_Once, these lusciously green lands of ours_

_lay barren. The grass wilted. Our crops withered._

_This was a tundra shrouded in frigid cold._

_Many days into a bleak winter, a Pokémon_

_appeared on the tundra—adorned with a regal_

_crown yet wounded and weak. Full of pity,_

_our people brought the Pokémon to our village_

_and saw to its care._

_\--_

The village of Freezington, the only settlement in the Crown Tundra, was not a kind place to live - and not exactly the kind of place one would particularly _want_ to live, Glaudusa of the Inn mused.

Of course, there were pros. Everyone in town was practically family to one another, and they bound together in celebration come birthdays or comings-of-age and held tiny festivals to honor the gods or Pokemon or even just life itself. No one was forgotten or left behind. 

But even in the warmest and longest of summers, bone-chilling winds swept across the tundra, piercing the barrier of evergreens and slipping into the homes of everyone who lived there. And naturally, the winters were far worse. The families of people and Pokemon alike huddled together in their tiny homes before the hearth, unwilling to venture into the cold, and praying that their stocks of food and firewood would last until spring. 

Come said spring, the villagers would jump into action, hastily planting seeds in the near-barren, barely-unfrozen fields in the hopes that enough would grow to put away for the next winter. The farmers’ field Pokemon (for the past few years, it had been Swinub and Piloswine) plowed straight lines into the ground, and the Gossifleur and Snover and other dextrous Pokemon planted seeds in neat little rows. Someone’s Spheal or Sealeo or Vaporeon would spray a gentle Water Gun every so often, and they would all work hard in the day and pray into the night.

In lucky years, enough crops would flourish so that no one went _too_ hungry during the harshest months. It was still hideously cold, and cooking food with the wood stove wasn’t always feasible with the amount of firewood available, but they would get through the winter without dancing on the edge of starvation. 

But in the not-so-lucky years, the town priority in fall shifted from farming to desperate foraging. Shaking Berries out of trees to dry, digging up painfully bitter Energy Roots, harvesting the occasional mushroom or herb or even _honey_ if they were lucky… Hell, even squirrelling away the berries the local Snover grew wasn’t unheard of. 

Those years were disheartening, especially to an older woman like Glaudusa herself.

Her family’s inn, passed through generations, didn’t see many visitors, but when the odd traveler from the north wandered into the tundra, it always had to be ready to receive them immediately - especially since they often were underprepared for the harsh weather and had to be taken care of a bit before they could continue on their way. The inn always had to be stocked with at least the essentials - to the point where in some of the more frugal years, she’d willingly surrendered her stock to be distributed to whichever villagers needed it most.

To live 68 years and see little improvement to the conditions they were all enduring year after year in the tiny town left her wondering _when,_ not _if,_ they would all finally be done in by a particularly harsh winter. 

Leaving was near impossible - according to what the people who passed through had to say, it took weeks if not _months_ to come across Freezington after leaving the previous settlement. To attempt a march of the entire village north to try and escape the tundra could end only in disaster - the older folks would never make it, and they could all meet their end lost in a blizzard.

And with their crop yields shrinking every year, it was only a matter of time in her eyes.

\--

It happened one day, sometime in early May. 

Glaudusa was mopping the inn floors with a rag at the time. Inglorious, but a necessary duty, as dust settled into the oddest of corners around the old inn and would cake into layers if it wasn’t dealt with regularly. She’d sent her daughter to do the same thing upstairs some time ago. _Hopefully_ she was doing what she’d been asked to do instead of lazing around on one of the guest beds with her Zigzagoon.

She dipped the cleaning cloth into her wooden bucket and frowned. The water was completely filthy and opaque; it wouldn’t clean anything more without spreading just as much filth back down. Apparently the floor had been dirtier than originally estimated. She would have to dump and refill it. 

Standing and donning her lighter coat, Glaudusa leaned towards the stairs and shouted, “Alison!! I’m going out to change the water, so mind the inn for me!”

A quiet confirmation wafted down from upstairs, so the innkeeper bent down, heaved the bucket off the ground (“Ugh!! Maybe I’m getting old, but this bucket is getting _heavier_ every year…”), and elbowed her way out the front door.

“Come along, Beldum.”

After dumping the water into a pit they set out for the river. The closest body of water was the river bordering the southern edge of the Giant’s Bed, and to get there she would have to pass through sections of snow-encrusted tall grass. Thus, she brought her old Beldum. It wasn’t the strongest of Pokemon, only knowing Tackle, but its iron-hard body had always been a reliable line of defense.

The walk to and from the river was quiet. Utterly uneventful. ...perhaps a little _too_ uneventful. Even the wild Pokemon seemed fewer in number than usual - which was odd, considering the sheer amount of hardy species that made the Crown Tundra their home.

Something wasn’t right. And yet despite her caution nothing happened, so by the time Glaudusa was nearly back to Freezington she’d almost brushed it off as her imagination. 

Almost.

Until she saw someone barrelling in her direction from the Giant’s Bed carrot field. A few moments later and she identified them as Ailfrid of the Beds, one of the Giant’s Bed farmers, and from what she could tell he was holding something about the size of a large flour sack-

Oh gods, was it a child? It was shaped a bit like a child.

“Ailfrid! Did something happen with the- children...?!” Glaudusa’s yell trailed off as the man hesitantly slowed to a stop next to her, giving her a better look at what he was holding. 

A Pokemon. 

An _injured_ Pokemon.

She wasn’t an expert on Pokemon by any means, but even _she_ could tell that it was not well. Blackish-brown, rough patches were blooming down the sides of the huge bud on its head, and its tiny face and even _tinier_ paws were turning a raw red. Scratches and scrapes from what was either a bad fall or, gods forbid, a bad _battle_ criss-crossed its beige fur.

“My Gossifleur found it in the bushes behind one of the storehouses. I’ve never seen anything like it, but I couldn’t just leave it there.... I’m going to get it some help,” Ailfrid explained hastily, before breaking back out into a run towards the village.

For a moment Glaudusa stared after him. And then she was hurrying after him as fast as her old legs could manage, Beldum dutifully trailing behind her. 

Some water sloshed out of the bucket.

For once, she didn’t care about being neat.

\--

It wasn’t hard to figure out where Ailfrid was taking it - the residence of Bhaltair of the Clinic. As Freezington’s only doctor, he handled treatment for both people and Pokemon on the regular. He didn’t usually treat wild Pokemon, citing the danger involved in treating something that wasn’t used to humans, but hopefully he’d be willing to help the poor thing the farmer had found.

Glaudusa passed by the inn entirely and barged into the tiny clinic, bucket and Beldum and all, to find Ailfrid in the middle of explaining the situation to Bhaltair as his Audino busied herself with helping her guest. She was holding one of her feelers to it. His Riolu, too, was hovering worriedly and rubbing at its face gingerly.

The doctor himself was already rummaging through his supplies. 

“-and it looks like it’s got frostbite, and I don’t even _know_ what’s going on with its head. Do you think you can help it?”

Audino stepped back to nudge Bhaltair. “Au-dhiii…” The odd Pokemon had been swathed with the gray Wooloo wool blanket that she’d seen used a few times to warm children who’d been out in the cold far too long. It lay engulfed in the too-large blanket on the exam table, far too still. Riolu remained crouched on the table, leaning against the patient.

Bhaltair set a well-worn pestle and mortar aside, along with a few old, tiny ceramic pots. “You’re prolly right in saying it's frostbitten ‘n deep-chilled, and we all know how to handle that. I can fix the injuries right up with some Heal Powder. As for its head…” He stood to get a closer look at his patient. Audino stepped back as Glaudusa and Ailfrid joined him, crowding the table a bit. “Looks kinda like the leaf rot we get on your Gossifleur when it’s sick, Ailfrid. Can’t know for sure without knowing what Pokemon it is, though.”

“You don’t know either, eh?” Glaudusa hadn’t had high hopes, but it was starting to pique her curiosity that no one knew. Maybe the Mayor might know.

A sigh. “‘Course, it doesn’t _matter_ what this fellow is if the chill gets ‘em - Riolu’s actin’ like it’s real weak already. Thing is, I can’t get started without no water. Can’t clean those scrapes without hot water, an’ _definitely_ can’t fill hot-water bottles without hot water.”

The innkeeper looked down at the bucket she was still carrying. “I just got back from the river,” she said slowly, “I _was_ going to use this for cleaning the inn, but I believe this is a little more urgent.”

She held out the mostly-full bucket.

And so, the water Glaudusa _was_ going to clean with ended up boiling over Bhaltair’s stove and used to clean the numerous wounds on the finally-shivering Pokemon’s body, with the remainder poured into several small containers and placed adjacent to the poor thing. 

Now that it wasn’t being cradled in the arms of a man in action or fussed over by Riolu or Audino, she was finally able to get a good look at what was visible of the Pokemon. Its face resembled something of a cross between a Sneasel and a Linoone - rodentlike, with a long snout, and white cheeks. The lower half of its face was nestled in a ring of green bead-like buds that completely surrounded its neck. 

The huge green bud on its head looked almost like an inverted Bulbasaur bulb, but darker, and cradled by four ears… or antlers? It wasn’t entirely clear, but then again, Pokemon’s bodies weren’t always comparable to each other.

“Now that I think about it…” Aildrid mused after a long period of silence, “Doesn’t that big head of its look kind of like a crown or something?”

The other three looked at him, then back at the Pokemon. “...I almost see it,” Glaudusa agreed. Indeed, the green bud vaguely reminded her of the plush red velvet cap, and the four ears or antlers of prongs. Together it resembled a simple, if very large, coronet.

The little Pokemon curled in on itself a little.

“Whatta fittin’ visitor to our Crown Tundra, then,” Bhaltair grinned. 

It certainly was.

\--


	2. August 18 - First Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bhaltair thinks their mystery guest is Grass-type. He's not wrong, but not entirely correct, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started getting long, so I made the first half of the inscription one chapter, and the second half of it will be next chapter.

\--

_ August 18 _

_ Under the care of our ancestors’ healing ways, _

_ the visitor’s wounds mended. It shrank back in _

_ fear if approached with open palms, so all kept _

_ their hands closed in its presence. _

_ Once it regained its full strength, the visitor _

_ emitted a dazzling blue light that breathed life _

_ back into our wilted fields, blessing them with _

_ the promise of harvests once more. Perhaps this _

_ was its way of showing its gratitude. _

\--

Even after Bhaltair declared their visitor “outta th’ danger of freezin’ t’ death”, it did not wake.

When asked why, the doctor had replied with a straight “Well, just ‘cause the chill in’t gonna get it doesn’t mean th’rest of it’s back to full health. Still got those injuries ‘n all that rot to think about, y’know?”

And that had been that.

With nothing for them to do but hover uselessly around the clinic, Glaudusa and Aildrid departed, each promising to stop by in the evening or, barring that, the next day. The farmer bid farewell as he trooped back to the Giant’s Bed fields - which made things awkward, being as the innkeeper had to make the trek down to the river  _ again  _ to refill her bucket.

The inn still had to get cleaned, after all!

On the way back, Beldum had to fend off a few of the braver wild Pokemon, which had started peeking back out of their hiding places in small waves. Curious. Before, there hadn’t been a single other creature in sight, and now it was as if that had never been the case.  _ Something _ must have made them wary enough to take cover, but  _ what, _ exactly?

…

...the only thing Glaudusa could think of was the odd Pokemon Aildrid had brought from the field, but how on  _ earth _ could a Pokemon in such bad shape make even the wild Dragapult not want to come out? It didn’t make any sense.

Regardless, there wasn’t anything else she could do to help the doctor ease its ailments, so she opted to do what she always did when there was something she didn’t want to think too much about.

_ Clean. _

Allie had bombarded her mother with questions the moment she returned to the Freeze Inn (“What took so long? Did something happen? Are you all right??”), which Glaudusa shrugged off without answering. 

Instead, she’d replied with a dismissive “Alison, if you’d like to take the rest of the day off and investigate those odd temples, you may do so.”

Her daughter had hesitated, but ultimately left to do just that. Allie had always shown a great interest in the huge temples scattered about the tundra, and the bewildering dot-patterns embeveled into the walls. She always insisted that the dots  _ meant _ something, and Glaudusa didn’t doubt it. Allie’s budding passion would eventually bloom into a discovery, she was certain of it. Perhaps she’d even figure out what they were for.

But the older woman’s interests had always been in housekeeping and domestic chores, not exploring.

So as soon as the young woman and her Zigzagoon departed from Freezington’s west gate, Glaudusa rolled up her sleeves, and spent the rest of the chilly spring day scrubbing the entire inn clean, top to bottom. The floors, the tables and chairs (and their legs), and counters and cupboards were all thoroughly washed with the wet rag. The bookshelves and books, the windowsills, the knick knacks, the crown molding - everything that could be dusted was dusted. All the linens were unfolded and examined for wrinkles or dust, refolded, and replaced. 

By evening, there were practically no indoor chores left to do. When Allie returned, she’d looked around with wide eyes and commented that she’d “never seen the inn this clean in her life”. Which was an exaggeration; Glaudusa’d done this many times before. She’d done it while waiting for births and deaths. She’d done it after her husband had promised to find another civilization somewhere north and hadn’t returned. (A few times, actually.)

So it wasn’t a surprise that when the two of them (and Zigzagoon, and Beldum) sat down for dinner, Allie leveled her gaze at her mother and asked directly, “So, Mom. What’s wrong? You only get like this when you’ve got something you don’t want to think about.”   
  


Her daughter knew her too well.

After a spoonful of stew, Glaudusa replied, “...one of the farmers. Aildrid. He brought a wild Pokemon to Bhaltair this afternoon. Injured and frostbitten, it was. And not well.”

“Oh no!” Allie began fiddling with her ponytail. “Frostbitten, though…? Is it not from the tundra, then? I can’t think of any Pokemon around here that get frostbite…”

She really was a sharp young lady. “We believe so. Neither Aildrid nor I could identify it. Bhaltair believes it to be Grass-type, as one of the afflictions supposedly resembled the leaf rot the local Gossifluer get, but even he wasn’t entirely certain. Even after we got it warm, it didn’t look good.”

“Oh…”

The rest of dinner continued in silence.

\--

It took only an hour or so after washing the dinner dishes for Glaudusa to stand from her living room armchair and declare, “I’m heading over to the clinic. You’re welcome to come along, Alison.”

She agreed, of course.

The clinic was only a few paces from the inn. Clearly the doctor was awake, as the fireplace and candles lighting the small structure were still lit, so Glaudusa simply opened the door without fanfare (or knocking, for that matter) and went inside. Her daughter trailed behind her.

Bhaltair looked up at them for a moment, but quickly turned back to the small bed the Pokemon from before was now resting in. “Figured you’d be back t’night, Glaudy.” He was dabbing some brownish paste from a small bowl onto the black spots on its head with a small brush, leaving thin streaks across the smooth surface. 

The cuts and scrapes were gone, replaced with strips of white fabric bound together with a tree-sap adhesive. Somehow, that almost made it look  _ worse  _ off than before. Beside her, Allie’s face softened and she hugged Zigzagoon a little tighter.

“Poor thing…” the young woman set her Pokemon down and crossed the room to crouch beside the doctor. The Pokemon looked  _ tiny _ , still engulfed in the human-sized blanket. “Being like this can’t feel good, huh? Get well soon, little guy.” Her hand gently caressed the side of its face.

Its eyes sluggishly blinked open.

“...croow….??”

“Huh…?”

The Pokemon and the room’s occupants engaged in a brief staredown. And then…

The clinic suddenly erupted into chaos. The nearby table overturned, and Audino tried and failed to catch the bowl with the medicine, which fell and broke on the floor with a loud crash along with a few of the other medicine jars. Bhaltair and Alison both went flying backwards into the wall behind them (“Augh!!” “Ow!”). Riolu tipped off the edge of the bed.

And the bed itself turned sideways, leaning against the wall, the injured Pokemon scrambling to hide under it, completely out of sight. The upturned table and its chairs dragged themselves over, settling over the bed to make a makeshift fortress.

Oddly, Zigzagoon was completely fine, albeit lowered into an aggressive stance and swishing his spiky tail back and forth.

“Alison, Bhaltair, good gods, are you two all right?!” Glaudusa, having been standing closer to the door and thus being unharmed, hurried over to the two humans slumped against the wall in pain. 

“I-I’m fine…” Allie groaned, “How about you, Bhal? Break your ancient back?”

“Oh, ha ha…” the doctor grumbled as he stood. He wearily eyed the broken pottery for a moment, but brought his attention to the pile of furniture in the corner. “...well, can’t say I didn’t  _ expect _ it to react this poorly, but might not’ve taken it in here if I’d known it was Psychic-type…”

“How would one  _ ever _ predict something like that?!” Glaudusa sputtered. 

“Well,” the doctor murmured, a little quieter, as he examined the barricade, “for one thing, it’s a wild Pokemon - ‘s prolly not used to humans, so our presence by itself was prob’bly a bit startlin’. There’s also th’ abrupt change ‘n location - dunno about you, but somehow I doubt the place it fainted was  _ anythin’ _ like this cabin. An’ that’s not even takin’ into account its injuries, which couldn’t’ve helped.”

“...” That  _ did _ make sense, but seeing her daughter flung across the room like a ragdoll had struck her heart with the fear of the gods. If it had done this much damage as a knee-jerk reaction while injured and disoriented, what  _ else _ could it do?

“That all makes sense, but…” Allie tiptoed over to the pile of furniture and laid down to look under it. “...do you still think we can help it? It’s scared and hurt. We’ve  _ got _ to help  _ somehow…” _

“Well, ‘less we wanna go flying out the  _ window _ next, let’s not just dismantle this and freak the fella out,” Bhaltair pointed out dryly.

“You’re right…” Allie sat up dejectedly.

It was quiet for a moment. The strange Pokemon hadn’t made a sound since its little outburst, so the only noise was the crackling of the fireplace while the three of them thought.

“...maybe we could ask Zigzagoon to negotiate on our behalf?” Glaudusa suggested. The Tiny Raccoon Pokemon’s ears perked up.

“Ah!” Allie exclaimed, “Right! Zigzagoon is Dark-type, so Psychic won’t work. Maybe he’ll have an easier time.” She leaned over to scratch behind her Pokemon’s ears. “What do you think, little buddy? Think you could try and convince it to let us help?”

“Zagzig!!” Zigzagoon barked, before wiggling its way under the stack of furniture.

…

_ “Rowwwwn?!?” _ The other Pokemon screeched.

There were a few shuffling sounds, and some barks from the Dark-type pokemon and quiet trills from the other, and the humans, Riolu, and Audino waited tensely as the two conversed. 

The interaction eventually died down, and a few seconds later Zigzagoon emerged from the tangle of wood and fabric. “Well? How’d it go?” Allie asked.

“Zig-zizag!” Instead of a proper response (because how could it give one?), it grabbed onto one of the chairs with its front paws and started pulling. The chair made a quiet scraping sound as it dragged across the floor.

“Must’ve gotten the okay, eh? Let’s take this down,” the doctor said, before carefully lifting a chair of his own and carrying it over to the corner. The two innkeepers joined in, dismantling the pile and putting the table and its chairs back where they belonged. Last was the bed, but instead of moving it right away, Bhaltair carefully peered over the edge. “We’re gonna move yer little barrier, ‘aight? We’re not gonna hurt’cha, it’s all right,” he said soothingly. 

There wasn’t a response, so the three humans and Riolu carefully slid the bed away and turned it right-side-up. The ‘fortress’’s former occupant was curled in a ball, warily eying the room’s occupants despite the reassurances. 

Allie knelt down next to it, getting as low to the ground as she could. “Hey there,” she cooed, “Even with that blanket, being on the floor can’t be as comfy as the bed, huh? Want some help getting back up there?”

She reached out, but the Pokemon shrunk back fearfully. “H-hey, what’s wrong…? I won’t hurt-”

“Zagoo _ nom-”  _ Suddenly, Zigzagoon lunged forward and clamped down on her fingers, stopping her hand short.

Glaudusa started, and began to scold it. “Hey, Zigzagoon, no biting!”

“Wait, Mom, he’s not biting me… He’s not using his teeth,” her daughter whispered incredulously. She relaxed her arm, and Zigzagoon let go, before rearing up on his back legs, grabbing her hand with his front paws, and clumsily but gently molding her fingers closed before getting down. 

Bhaltair ‘hmm’ed. “Ah, I see. ‘S not afraid of  _ us _ , per se, but maybe our open hands scare it. Look, it already looks less freaked.” Indeed, as soon as Zigzagoon had taken Allie’s hand, some of the tenseness in its body and the fear in its eyes had dissipated, replaced with wariness.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know, ‘lil guy. Can you forgive me?” Allie asked while slowly reaching forward again, fingers carefully closed over her palms. This time, the Pokemon didn’t react much as she slowly glided forward and gingerly gathered it, blanket and all, into her arms.

Glaudusa’s heart melted. 

After Allie set the Pokemon back on the bed, the doctor knelt before it and looked it in the eye. “Hey there. I’ll let you rest inna minute, but there’s something you gotta do for me first. You got some leaf rot up on your noggin, ‘n I’m gonna need ya t’ tell me what parts hurt.” He shifted. “‘Cause if they don’t hurt, they’re dead ‘n they gotta come off. It’s real important; think you can do that fer me?”

The fireplace crackled as they waited for its answer.

Instead of answering, however, the Pokemon tipped its head towards him.  _ Get it over with, _ was clearly the implied answer, so the two innkeepers watched as Bhaltair began gently probing the black-brown spots with his fingers, taking care not to open his hand. It didn’t take long, no more than a few minutes, and the doctor had only had to trim a minimal amount of greenery away with a pair of tiny scissors, but it was clearly agonizing. 

“All done.”

Allie grinned. “You both did great! You especially, Little King; you’ve really earned some rest.”

“‘Little King’?” Glaudusa echoed, bewildered.

“I- well… I mean, I thought it was fitting?” her daughter fumbled over her words, embarrassed at being called out. “I mean, we live in the Crown Tundra, and it probably has a name already so I didn’t want to give it one but I thought maybe a nickname was...” she trailed off.

Bhaltair chuckled. “Well, we gotta to call it  _ something _ , I guess. But should we continue this conversation by the fire instead? The lil’ king’s resting, after all.”

“A kind offer, but perhaps we should be returning home. It’s getting a bit late, after all,” Glaudusa politely turned him down.

Her daughter didn’t seem to agree. “I’m still worried about Little King, though… Could I stay a little longer? Like maybe one night? The inn’s right next door, after all...”

Hm.

“Well, I won’t say no if the lil’ lady wants to so much,” Bhaltair sighed amusedly. “Mind partin’ with your darlin’ daughter for a few hours, Glaudy? I can gett’er set up on the spare bed.”

_ Hm. _

Allie’s desire to stay and the doctor’s easy agreement made Glaudusa a  _ little _ suspicious of the real motivation for staying over, but Alison was an adult, so the older woman waved it off. None of her business. “Go ahead, Alison. I’ll see the two of you at the inn tomorrow morning for breakfast.”

And before either of them could agree  _ or  _ object, she closed the door behind her and stepped out into the night air. 

**Author's Note:**

> i really enjoyed calyrex's story and when i started finding the plaques scattered around, i knew i wanted to do something with it. so here is this! i've never posted here before so there may be some formatting issues, but i hope someone gets some enjoyment out of this. <3  
> hopefully i can kick myself in the ass hard enough to continue this to completion!


End file.
